


A Very Knotting Christmas

by reillyblack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (smell), Alpha Castiel, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Christmas Fluff, Dubious Consent, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mates, Omega Dean, Scent Marking, Scent Mating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2850323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reillyblack/pseuds/reillyblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey man, thanks!  Merry Christmas and all that.” He winks at him. Winks.</p><p>Castiel’s blushing for the first time in he doesn’t know how long. He’s just about to turn tail and run when the smell hits him, like walking into a wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Knotting Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thursdayschildren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thursdayschildren/gifts).



> My Secret Santa Fic celebrating Christmas and ABO for Thursdayschild!

Castiel hates the man who ran past him as he trickled through the airport, and he hates the woman he swept up into his arms at baggage claim, all kisses and loud proclamations of “I love you” and “I missed you so much”.  He loathes that they follow him out of baggage claim, and that her family is there to coo over them both, greeting them for the holidays.

Meanwhile, his mother waits in the car for him, opening the back of the car with the press of a button in her own greeting.

“Castiel, it’s been a long time.” Castiel’s fury melts somewhat when his mother smiles at him as he climbs in the car. “Too long.”

“Yes,” he agrees. 

“I wish it were under better circumstances, son.”

At that his irritation springs to life once more. Castiel seals his mouth and prays his mother will drop the topic.  He doesn’t have much hope for it.

It’s one of the only times in his adult life Castiel’s visited his parents’ home for the holidays, and he only did so because his mother insisted he not spend it alone, not after… well.

“I know it’s hard to hear, but it’s not her fault. You’ll know.  When it happens to you, you’ll understand.”

“Thank you mother, that’s very helpful.” Knowing his mother, Castiel figures she’ll take it literally and miss his sarcasm. 

“You’re welcome,” she replies softly, and Castiel almost feels bad for taking advantage of his mother’s cluelessness. Almost, but not quite. He’s going to need it to get through the holidays with his whole family.

“So, who’s here?” he asks cautiously, bracing himself.

“Your brother Gabe, Aunt Jody, Uncle Balthazar, Anna’s in town…” she lists more, but Castiel inwardly groans in dismay and tunes her out. The combination of Gabe and Balthazar promises that Christmas will be more or less a disaster.

Castiel sinks into his seat and listens passively for the rest of the drive home.

* * *

 

Lucifer is tormenting baby Alfie on the couch next to him, but Castiel can’t bring himself to step in.  He feels drained, thinly spread. Plus, Alfie’s almost three (with surprisingly sharp teeth), so he can probably fight off Lucifer himself.

Luckily Anna soon scoops up the child and whacks Lucifer on the head as she grabs the toy from his hands and delivers it to the frustrated child.  Castiel has a mug of hot tea and a blanket wrapped around his body, so he rejoices that he doesn’t have to disturb his careful setup.  Lucifer scoffs at Anna’s turned back and sinks back into the couch, his eyes already picking through the gathered people to find his next victim.

Castiel tries to ignore him, tries to tune out all the noises and shapes of his relatives and blend into the couch so no one will notice or speak to him. If it were fully his decision he would sit in his old room and read through the books on his old bookshelf, but out of respect to his mother he figures he’ll at least look like he’s mingling for about a half an hour. 

When enough time passes that he thinks he’s done his duty as a son, he quietly folds up the blanket and steals up the stairs. The dusky blue walls of his childhood room are comforting, but the din of his relatives carries and he only manages to read ten pages before he decides even nostalgia can’t cancel out the sounds of all the people in his house.

He shrugs on his coat and ducks out the door with a vague message to his mother about returning “later”.

The coffee shop a few blocks down the street is usually quiet, and it’s one of the few places still open on Christmas Eve. Castiel orders a peppermint something and sinks down into the cushiest chair still available. To Castiel’s relief, the place is dead, almost no one there.  Quiet Christmas music carries through the speaker somewhere off to his right, and it feels peaceful.  Isolated.

Castiel closes his eyes and tries to melt into the chair as he’d melted into the couch at home. He wills his mind to go blank, but all he can see as he closes his eyes is Meg, her mouth opening to form words he doesn’t need to hear because he can smell it; he can taste it in the air, bitter and _wrong_ , so different from how she usually smells, and he’s already pulling the ring off his finger.

But he’s not in California, he’s in Kansas. His hand goes to a bare finger, caressing strangely sensitive skin rather than metal.

“Peppermint Latte, extra whipped cream?”

“Yes.” Castiel clears his throat. The last thing this person, already working on Christmas Eve, needs is a customer ready to fight at a word. “Thank you,” he forces out, and tries to lift his eyes to the man’s to offer a slight smile in compensation for his angry tone.

 _Pretty_ , Castiel thinks as the man smiles back and retreats to the counter. Castiel can’t help watching as he mixes another drink.  He’s a beautifully made human - graceful shoulders, just the right shade of honey brown hair to compliment his grassy eyes. 

Castiel almost hums in satisfaction as he tastes the latte.  It’s perfect, warm and cool from the peppermint at the same time.  He swipes his tongue over the whipped cream covering his lips. He feels eyes on him and sees the man behind the counter chuckle, but he looks away politely at Castiel’s attention and focuses on whatever he’s making.

Something smells amazing, and it isn’t all the Christmas beverage in his hands as he’d originally thought when the man gave it to him.  The smell is a sort of sweet undercurrent to the peppermint steam, something Castiel can’t quite put his finger on, and it fades or strengthens with the air currents in the little shop.

Castiel notices the man watching him again, though his eyes dart away when he looks over. 

It’s been a while since Castiel flirted, so it’s hard to say whether that’s what’s going on here.  Whatever it is, Castiel’s brain almost short circuits even considering talking to him. He doesn’t have the guts – he’s a complete mess right now. He gathers his things to go, feeling broken beyond repair.  Outside was fairly quiet, maybe he can walk around the park nearby and clear his head there.

Though he can’t possibly even attempt to… _whatever_ back with the guy, he decides to leave a tip. The latte did cheer him up, at least somewhat. Plus, it’s Christmas Eve. He digs a few bucks out of his overcoat and walks up to the tip jar to drop it in quietly and leave, but his plan goes astray as the guy walks around the counter seemingly toward him. Castiel freezes and stares a little too long before he notices the broom in the man’s hands and mentally kicks himself for assuming he was walking to meet him.

Still, the guy grins at him again - a slight tweak of his mouth, his eyes warm - and Castiel feels a little less stupid.

“Hey man, thanks!  Merry Christmas and all that.” He winks at him. _Winks._

Castiel’s blushing for the first time in he doesn’t know how long. He’s just about to turn tail and run when the smell hits him, like walking into a wall.  That _smell._

His animal brain wakes up in an instant and he focuses in immediately on the man, taking in details he hadn’t noticed before: the perfect shape of his lips, the delicate freckles dotting his nose, his clear, smooth skin.  He’s wearing a dark green sweater and ripped jeans, and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal the toned muscles of his forearms as he sweeps right next to Castiel. His Adams apple bobs as he swallows, and Castiel wants to bite that supple skin, right at the tempting meeting of his shoulder and his elegant neck.

It’s about this time that the guy realizes Castiel is rooted to the spot, staring at him with his mouth hanging open. His dazzling green eyes meet Castiel’s and Castiel feels like he’s floating outside of his body even as his brain screams at him to take action. _Take. Yes_.  He needs to _grab_ and _pull_ until he’s got his hands on every god-like piece of this gorgeous creature.

The man opens his mouth to say something else, but Castiel never hears it because his brain suddenly connects to his body again he’s moving, following through on every immediate instinct.

The man grunts as Castiel presses his mouth to his and crowds him up against the (thankfully sturdy) glass covering of the pastries and other treats by the register.  Castiel can feel the resistance in the strain of his body even as he drinks in the sweet nectar of the man’s mouth, the _omega_ ’s mouth he knows now from some unknown chemistry of their saliva meeting, and he pleads with every tense muscle he strokes over to loosen, to accept him.

His omega struggles for a long moment, and he’s strong enough to throw Castiel back a few feet and push himself away from the glass to angrily demand, “Dude!  Did you seriously just _grope_ me?” Then his eyes shift radically from angry to dazed, his nostrils flaring as his whole body relaxes into what must be Castiel’s smell.  The alpha in him purrs with satisfaction at the sight and darts back in to take advantage of the momentarily sedated omega, shoving his nose along his jaw and drinking in the amazing smell.  _Perfect._   He is perfect and Castiel doesn’t know how he could have ever found anyone other than him attractive in his life.

This time he is greeted rather than fought, the omega’s arms coming up to rest against his shoulders easily, holding him closer. He tilts his head to the side, submitting and allowing Castiel more room to scent him, finally. Castiel sighs and eagerly noses along his ear, taking in lungfulls of the luscious scent.

Castiel delights in the welcoming embrace. He melts into it, pushing chest to chest and hips to hips. The feeling of the omega’s thickening erection against him is wonderful.

“Name?” Castiel purrs, his hands running everywhere along his beautiful omega. He feels his short, thick hair before darting down along the curve of his back to dip into his pant pocket and squeeze what he’d barely touched before. Firm, and, _yes_.   _Wet_.

“Dean.” Mmm, even his name is just right.  Dean.  Castiel tries it out on his lips and he feels the omega shiver under him, pushing into Castiel’s grinding hips.  He nips at the shell of Dean’s ear and squeezes the handful of ass he has again, digging his fingers into the crease to feel more of that delightful dampness.

“Out.  Get out!”

Pain blooms in the crown of Castiel’s skull and he blinks in shock, stumbling away from the warmth and safety of his mate before he realizes what’s happened.  Dean chases after him, quickly closing the distance between them, one hand wrapping possessively around Castiel’s waist as Dean turns to snarl at Castiel’s assailant.

“Oh, you want to fight Dean Winchester? I’ll kick your ass and you know it.  Get out of my store this minute, young man.”

His omega seems to cower a bit at the admonishment, and a protective urge flares in Castiel’s chest at the sight. Pain forgotten, he turns to snarl at the woman brandishing a mop at both of them. If his omega is afraid of her, Castiel will destroy her for him.  He sinks down into a defensive posture, crowding his omega behind him to protect him from the swinging mop.

“Out!  No canoodling in my shop!” the woman demands again, her eyes blazing as she violently prods at them.

“Mother! Stop!”  A tiny blond woman is pulling at his omega from the other side. There’s two people attacking, so Castiel goes completely feral, pulling the omega closer into his side and snarling at the other woman too.  She backs away immediately, her hands up in surrender.  She even tilts her head to the side in submission.

“I just want to help you get a ride to… wherever. Don’t… _growl_ at me like that!”

Castiel looks at his omega and the primal urges surface again; he needs to claim him.  Dean presses in close, scenting along his neck, but Castiel’s head is still throbbing and he can think, if barely.

“My house,” he manages, stroking a hand soothingly through his omega’s hair to keep him satisfied at least to some extent. “Address.”

 “Nice little alpha, that’s right.”  She catches the wallet he throws at her, rifling through it.  Dean’s still nuzzling at him, his hands running over Castiel’s chest and back in a way that has Castiel groaning and sinking into the omega’s hold. “Come with me and I’ll take you there.” The blonde cautiously backs away from them, though she gestures for them to follow.  Castiel pulls his omega in close, locking his arm around Dean’s waist and throwing one last snarl over his shoulder at the mop lady before following the blonde through a hallway by the counter.  She opens a door and suddenly they’re blinking in the cloudy light of outside.

The smell of Dean is hard to resist, and as the girl opens the door to a small white car for them Castiel lands heavily on Dean, to the omega’s moan of pleasure, and gets straight to tasting his delicious mouth again.

“No sex, no sex!” comes the shrill voice from the front seat.  Castiel is vaguely aware that the car is moving – they shift on the seat at every turn - but he’s focused on fitting his hand into Dean’s pants to paw at the generous erection waiting for him.  Dean moans heavily and whispers encouragement in his ear, his throaty voice all the music Castiel ever wants to hear again.

“Yeah baby, come on.  So good.” And Castiel shudders because that’s his _mate’s voice_ , all rocky and low but somehow still smooth. He can’t wait to hear it again. He swipes his hand along Dean’s cock, treating it like the precious treasure it is, trying to get another rise out of the omega.  Dean moans in answer, and Castiel chases the sound.

Dean wraps his legs around Castiel’s waist and Castiel loses himself to pure instinct.  He rips at Dean’s sweater, not quite tearing it, but stretching it as he hurries to lift it off his omega’s lovely body.

“I’m so fucking glad you live close by. Get out, both of you. Zip his pants back up!  Damn it, Dean!”

Dean growls back, but Castiel pulls him out of the seat because _beds_ , beds are the best for this sort of thing. 

He hits the door to his house loudly, Dean wrapping himself around him and kissing him up against the wood.  He hears the vague sounds of the blonde pounding on the window nearby until his mother wrenches the door open and they collapse into the entryway.

Castiel hears gasps and other sounds, but Dean’s straddling his hips and all he can see is the omega’s reddened cheeks and the beautiful shape of his mouth as he pants out moans.  Castiel's back is throbbing from the impact of landing on the floor with both his and Dean’s weight.  Dean rubs his ass along the length of Castiel's cock, grunting out a soft, "Yeah, hard for me".  

“Bedroom, is there a bedroom?”  Someone’s shouting again.

Castiel really can’t care anymore. Enough is enough. He needs to claim his beautiful omega.  He reaches for Dean with that singular thought.

Then someone’s tearing Dean off of him, and Dean’s howling for him, and Castiel’s furious at the sound. Strong arms lock around his own arms, pinning him to a chest. He feels himself being tugged backwards.

“Got ‘im,” someone grunts in his ear. Castiel barely registers the look of profound glee on Lucifer’s face as he locks Dean in a similar hold, but he roars at the sight of another alpha touching his omega.  Dean’s squirming, trying to get away, to get back to him, but hands still drag Castiel back, back and up.  “Fuck he’s strong, someone grab his feet.”

Castiel kicks at Gabriel all the way up the stairs, his eye never leaving Dean as Balthazar races to help Lucifer carry his omega up in a similar way.

Finally, Castiel is freed in his room, tossed toward his bed. He’s about to storm the door when Dean follows him, flying into him and knocking him down onto the soft comforter of his bed.

“Forget them,” Dean tugs him back into the bed as he turns with a snarl on his lips, and Castiel feels himself crumble at the feet of the beautiful omega.  Soft whimpers emerge from his throat when he sees Dean’s stripping his sweater fully off and kicking his pants from him as fast as he can, and Castiel has no idea why he isn’t following suit.  The other alphas melt from his mind in an instant, and then everything is just Dean - the smell of Dean leaks out everywhere as he rids himself of his last item of clothing. Castiel rips at his own clothes. Hands, either his or Dean’s or both, scrabble at his pant and shoes and, jesus, everything until he can fall against Dean’s warm, hard skin and seek what he needs.

“You’re mine now, alpha.”  Dean groans against his collarbone, arranging his body so Castiel can easily press into him.  To move against him feels natural, like breathing.  He feels as though they’ve always touched each other this way.

“Castiel,” he tells him.  Dean’s green eyes meet his, searching.  He smiles for a breathless moment, then lurches forward in an urgent kiss.  

It’s only when he sinks into Dean, the smell overwhelming him and almost blocking out the human side of him, that a flash of clarity hits him.  He forgives Meg for finding her mate, even though she’d already made a promise to him. He imagines tomorrow, dressing Dean in his own clothes, pinning him against the soft, warm bed and refusing to let him get up for at least several hours after they’ve woken. He can already see the looks on his family’s faces as they finally trip down the stairs, shame-faced, to the inevitable teasing.  But there will be warm welcomes, too, and good breakfast.  Laughter, jokes.  Stories from Dean, hopefully, about his life.  Presents under the tree.

Castiel’s certain he’s already found the best present he’ll receive for any Christmas to come.  


End file.
